


Eidolon

by lokilickedme



Series: Chemical Prehistories [4]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Big Brother worship, Brother Feels, Brother-Sister Relationships, Death, Denial, Emotional Roller Coaster, Escapism, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy World, Ghosts, Hero Worship, Little Sisters, Mental Illness, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Siblings, Violence, delusional illness, imagined death of a child, imagined death of major character, mention of drug use (imagined), mention of prostitution, phantoms, warped view of past events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Chem!Tom's life, told through his sister Emma's eyes.</p><p>ei·do·lon<br/>/īˈdōlən/<br/>noun<br/>1.<br/>an idealized person or thing.<br/>2.<br/>a specter or phantom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eidolon

 

 

My older brother and I survived the plague of 1220 and the following purge, escaping into Mongolia where we set ourselves up as nobility and built a small kingdom among the natives until he was killed in the uprising of 1412.  I died soon after, grieved over by my seventeenth husband, the only one I didn't outlive.

My brother was a drug addicted male prostitute, selling himself to stay high and take care of me and his junkie girlfriend.  He died of an intentional overdose with her and I found them together, their arms around each other like they were sleeping, her flame red hair laying across his face like a splash of blood. 

My family were royals, my brother and I destined for thrones, until our kingdom was overrun by the orcwolves and he died keeping them away from me, blocking the doorway with his body until I escaped to the roof and took flight with the wings he gave me from his own back.

My brother was murdered, strangled to death by our caretaker when he found him sleeping next to me.

My brother was a vampire, beautiful and lonely and sad, cursed to live in the night.  The woman he loved had a sickness that allowed her only to live in the day.

He lived nine lifetimes.  He died eleven times.  He took care of me to the death over and over, and each time he came back to do it again even though each death was destined to be worse than the ones before.

He died on his way to save me, starving and cold and alone, a young boy found dead in a ditch in the desert with nothing on him but a missing child poster with his picture on it.

His wife was a princess.  She was cast out of her kingdom when her husband the prince died, and she gave up her right to the throne to be with my brother.

He and his wife were exiles, running for their lives from an executioner who hunted them through seven universes.

They died in a car crash together on their way to New Mexico.  When they pried the doors off, they found him holding her hand, his arm protectively across her.

They lived to a ripe old age together, happily growing strawberries on a farm in Wyoming.

They had two daughters who were born princesses even though they weren't of royal blood.

He was a Cree holy man who blessed the new savior, a hungry child that lived in an alley behind a pub.

He was a wolf, stuck in man form until the moon got its shit together and a proper alignment with the Ursa Major set him free.

He was one of the dark angels cast out of the heavens at the fall of man.

He was Loki's son Fenrir, doomed to end all life until he refused and was cursed to live as a human for his disobedience.

He is that sound you hear when the music stops, the faint echo that still plays just on the very edge of your awareness.

He is shattering glass and faraway sirens and blood and redemption.

He is the tattooed wraith, his body bearing images that move when nobody is looking, telling tales that nobody can hear unless they're asleep or moments from death.

He is blood and bone and wire and stone and he is unbreakable because he has already shattered.

He was there when the world was created, shaking his head in sadness and frustration at the downfall he knew was coming.

He is a worldwalker who has seen the galaxy and all its terrible wonders...and still came back to watch over me.

 

My brother was beaten to death by our stepfather when he was nine for defending me.

My brother died locked in a closet when I was six.  I sat outside the door, whispering to him, telling him stories about gods and monsters, until I couldn't hear him breathing anymore.

My brother came to visit me last week.

My brother is an old man now.  His wife sits with me, talking to me when I feel like talking, being quiet when I don't.  He thinks I don't know he's in the hallway, peeking in at me, his eyes full of unshed tears while she and I talk about things that make no sense to anyone but us.

My brother is a broken god, a weeping angel, a battle weary titan.

My brother is a ghost.  He used to frighten me, but I'm used to him now, and I'm glad he haunts me.

My brother is a hero.

My brother is a saint.

My brother never existed.  He was a figment of my imagination, a playmate for my lonely childhood.

 

My brother is a skinny little black haired boy named Tommy, and I will keep him alive forever, no matter how many times he dies.

 

 

 

 


End file.
